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Christ— Child driven from the door. 


Pag e 17 



THE 


CHRIST-CHILD. 

r Ik 


JBy T. R, 

AUTHOR OF “BETTER THAN DIAMONDS.” 



NE¥ YORK: 

General Protestant Spfscopnl S. S. 2Hufon 
antt (Eljurcf) 3Sooft Society, 

762 BROADWAY. 


1858. 





Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1858, 

By the General Protestant Episcopal Sunday School Union 
and Church Book Society, 

In the Clerk’s Office of the District Court cf the United States for the 
Southern District of New York. 


RENNIE, SHEA A LINDSAY, 

STBBE0TYPER8 AND ElECTROTYPKM, 

8}, 83, & 85 Ccutre-street, 

New York. 


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PUBLISHED 


THROUGH THE OFFERINGS 


THE SUNDAY SCHOOL 

OF 

ST. PAUL’S CHURCH, 


AUGUSTA, GEOBGIA. 





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. 

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HE following narrative is 
founded upon a German 
tradition, which the author 
casually met with, to this 
effect : That on Christmas 
day, Christ does, actually, come upon 
earth, in the form of a little suffering 
child, to test the hearts of Christian 
people, and that whoever receives this 
little child does really and in truth re- 
ceive Christ, and wdioever rejects this 

little child, does indeed reject Christ. 

10 





































CHRIST-CHILD. 

« 

vas Christmas morning, 
t it did not look like it ; 
did not look as one feels 
it Christmas should al- 
ways look, bright and merry ; for heavy 
clouds obscured the sun, and the snow 
which had fallen during the night, and 
which still fell at intervals, was dark and 
discolored with the passing feet. 



8 THE CHEIST-CHILD. 

Tlie wind swept in gusts through the 
long streets of the city, and w f as sharp 

and piercing, so that men who ventured 

% 

out wore huge overcoats and walked 
quick, and women were wrapped in furs 
and great shawls ; and little children — 
for there were plenty of them abroad, it 
was Christmas, and so they did not mind 
the dreary weather — had on overshoes, 
and were all wrapped close in comforters 
and mufflers. Their faces looked pinched 
with the keen, raw wind, as they peeped 
out, hut they -were bright, and laughed 
merrily as they turned their hacks to the 
breeze. ‘ The shops w r ere gay w r ith toys, 
and there were bright fires within, making 
a summer atmosphere. Groups were 
gathered here and there at some tempt- 
ing confectioner’s window, and now and 


THE CHRIST-CHILD. 


9 


then the door would open, and such a 
savor of hot pies and cakes would come 
forth, as made the mouth of many a poor 
little beggar water. 

Yes, it was Christmas, and no one 
heeded the cold, or the snow, or the 
wind ; for hearts were light, and purses 
were full, and gifts had gone abroad, like 
messengers, to pave the way and make 
the donors welcome. Who could care 
on Christmas day for cold, or rain, or 
snow ? for the joy within made Christians 
all unmindful of the dreariness without. 
In the churches were warm stoves, and 
evergreens, and flowers ; and Christian 
people were there, who would have 
braved greater things than cold and 
wind, to show the love they felt for the 
Babe of Bethlehem. 


10 


THE CHRIST-CHILD. 


In rich men’s houses were soft carpets, 
and bright anthracite, and Christmas- 
trees, and feasts of good things, to which 
kinsmen and friends were bidden ; and 
in poor men’s cottages the doors were 
shut,, and labor was forgotten, and there 
were huge crackling logs upon the fire, 
and nuts and apples, and jokes, and 
mirth, and frolic. 

Yes, it was Christmas time, the joyous 
time, when all — rich and poor, high and 
low, master and servant — should rejoice 
together ; for to all, equally, this day, had 
the Great Salvation come. So, because 
it was Christmas time, nobody minded 
the cold, or the wind, or the snow, no- 
body but a poor little shivering child 
without, and nobody minded him. He 
seemed to belong to no one, to have no 


THE CHRIST-CHILD. 


11 

one to care for him. The streets were 
now full, and people jostled each other 
on the side-walks, now and then stop- 
ping, wdtli a kindly smile and a “ Happy 
Christmas but there was no word said 
to him. He passed on unnoticed. 

Fathers were there, with their little 
children, and they held them tight by 
the hand, that nothing might hurt them, 
and pointed out now this, now that pleas- 
ant sight, then hurried them on, to house 
them from the fast-coming storm ; hut no 
father held out a hand to him, no one 
even called him to a shelter. Mothers 
were there, hurrying fast home, and their 
arms were filled with toys, and the little 
child gazed wistfully at the tempting 
treasures, but not one look w T as given to 
him, not one offering made for his ac- 


12 


THE CHKt ST-CHILD. 


ceptance. He did not belong to the 
rich, for they care for their own ; and 
besides, his clothing was all too scant, 
too threadbare. He did not belong to 
the poor, for there are kind hearts among 
them, and, surely, by the fire-side of some 
acquaintance the little wanderer would 
have been housed and comforted. Ho, 
he was all alone ; on the wide earth 
there was not one heart or one home 
which he could claim — nobody cared for 
him. 

The throng swept on, and he, unheeded 
by all, went with them ; some turned off 
here, some went on there. He stopped 
at the open sliop-door, where a group 
went in. He was very cold, and the 
warm air rushed out against his frozen 
limbs and comforted them. He was very 


THE CHJRIST-CHILD. 


1 o 
lo 

hungry, and liow delicious was the savory 
smell ! He leaned against the open door, 
and a man with a great star upon his 
breast drove him away, and he heard 
muttered words within of “ vagrant” and 
u thief,” and the eating and the drinking 
went on, and the wine was bright in the 
cup ; but, in the cheerless gloom, in the 
pelting storm of that Christmas day, the 
little child wandered on alone. 

“ Out of the way, child, out of the 

way ! are you crazy ?” The words were 

rough, but the deed which accompanied 

them, kind ; for a strong hand caught 

him by the arm, and drew him quickly 

aside, just as a carriage thundered down 

the street, almost running over him. He 

looked up gratefully, but the man jmssed 

on quickly, with no other heed than “ Go 

2 


14 


THE CHRIST-CHILD. 


home to your mother, child ; no busi- 
ness ont in such a storm,” and went into 
the house where the carriage stopped — 
a beautiful house with marble steps ; and 
then another carriage came, and another, 
until there seemed no end to them ; and 
richly-dressed people got out, and all 
went into the house, for it was a rich 
man’s house, and within were bright 
lights, and bright fires, and bright music, 
bright flowers, bright faces, and all glit- 
tering in the midst the Christmas-tree ; 
and the mother flitted about, and swept 
around in her rich silk and sparkling 
jewels, and received her guests grace- 
fully. The father leaned back in his 
arm-chair and was content. God had 
prospered him almost beyond his hopes, 
had blessed him in his basket and in his 


THE CHRIST-CHILD. 


15 


store, in his wife and in his children, in 
his friends and in his business ; from 
poverty he had risen to riches, and in 
fulness and content his soul was at ease. 
He looked down his magnificent saloons 
as his young people, in the pride and 
strength of their youth, made merry with 
their friends, and, as the sound of their 
laughter rang through his great halls, his 
heart felt glad. He smiled upon his little 
children, as they danced in their exceed- 
ing joy around the beautiful tree, with its 
thousand tapers and its fairy treasures ; 
and he talked benignantly with the older 
friends gathered around his hearth, as 
Christian people should talk, of that 
day’s high festival, of the great congre- 
gation, of the rich offering laid upon the 
altar for the far-off heathen — yes, all was 


16 


THE CHRIST-CHILD. 


nice, all was pleasant, all seemed right ; 
and the smell of savory viands came up, 
and the heart of the rich man grew soft, 
and seemed to open wide enough to take 
into its embrace a world of suffering. 
All seemed right. 

Surely, from all this abundance, so 
freely given to him, -a little, a very little, 
can be spared to the poor, suffering child 
who stands without at the door. Hark ! 
a knock, low, gentle, unobtrusive ; _ an- 
other. The rich man turned his head, 
and within the door stood the child, wet 
and shivering, and cold, and naked, and 
hungry. The yellow hair hung dripping 
around his pale face, and the blue eyes, 
in their pleading softness, were wonder- 
fully beautiful. But a moment stood the 
intruder ; an expression of irritation and 


THE CHRIST-CHILD. 


17 


disgust passed over the rich man’s face, 
and in an instant the well-trained servant 
had taken the child by the shoulder, and 
was turning him from the door. Just 
then, the w r ife came forward, her woman’s 
heart was touched, and, “ It storms so,” 
she said to her husband in a low tone ; 
“ let him go down into the kitchen, until 
we know something about him. I cannot 
bear to turn him out.” 

The reply was almost stern : “ My dear, 
let the servant do his duty.” 

“ Yes,” she replied, in a pleading tone, 
“ but ” 

“ My dear,” said the husband, more 

harshly, “this interference will not an- 

«/ * 

swer. Attend to your guests, if you 
please, and leave me to see to this, or 
there will be no end to these imperti- 


18 


THE CHRIST-CHILD. 


nences.” The rest was almost inaudible, 
“ vagrant, beggar, station-house,” being 
the only words which could be heard. 

“ But,” persisted the wife, “ you do not 
know how fearfully it storms.” 

“ My dear,” was the imperative reply, 
“ I insist that my order shall be obeyed. 
The station-house is his proper place.” 

She ventured no further remonstrance. 
The little child had been looking earnestly 
at her, his hands stretched out implor- 
ingly : now, they fell listlessly by his side,, 
as he was turned away, the blue eyes 
filled with tears ; and she heard the words, 

i 

“ If thou hadst known — -” 

With a heavy heart, for the good she 
could not do, she turned to her husband : 
an expression of almost terror had crept 
over his face, as he muttered, “ What did 


THE C HEIST-CHILD. 


19 


he say ? ‘ How hardly shall a rich man 
enter the kingdom of Heaven V ” But, 
in another moment, he had crushed down 
the little upbraiding voice within, was as 
bland and as tender-hearted as ever, and 
the music, and the dancing, and the feast 
went on ; the mirth and the frolic were 
louder than before. The wind shrieked 
and howled around the house, but there 
was warmth, and comfort, and merriment 
within, nothing but the storm and the 
cold, and the little wandering child with- 
out, on that Christmas day. 

Hi glit was coming on, the streets were 
dark and deserted, for all who could 
claim a shelter had sought it ; even the 
watchman had taken refuge from the 
driving rain, under some porch or cov- 
ered nook, and the child passed on un- 


20 


THE CHRIST-CHILD. 


molested. Lights shone from the win- 
dows, and, in the pauses of the storm, he 
could hear the sound of mirth and music 
from almost every dwelling ; for in that 
street were only the dwellings of the 
rich. 

Now, he would try another. This is 
less pretending ; a court in front, and a 
porch, from which he can look into the 
windows. What a home scene of com- 
fort met his eyes ! father, mother, and 
little children ; and upon the table lay a 
Bible — a Bible with pictures, and a little 
child was looking at the picture of the 
Nativity there : he is sure of a welcome. 
Here are Christians. lie knocks, this 
time with more assurance, and a bri ght- 
eyed, pleasant-spoken child has opened 
the door, listens to his few words of en- 


THE C HEIST-CIIILD. 


21 


treaty for shelter, and with a pitying 
“ Poor little fellow !” went in. 

From where he stood, the little shiver- 
ing child conld hear all that was said. 
“ A beggar,” said the mother, “ a heggar- 
cliild ! Mercy, there is really no end to 
them ; one has no peace for them. The 
mother ought really to be ashamed of 
herself to send him ont on such a night 
as this.” 

“ Oh, but, mother,” interrupted the 
boy, “ he is an orphan, and no beggar ; 
he did not beg ; he only said something 
abont not having where to lay his 
head.” 

“ Pooh ! nonsense !” said the mother, 
“ the old story ; they all say that. I have 
no place for him. Here, give him this, 
and tell him there is a boarding-house 


22 


THE CHRIST-CHILD. 


around the corner, where he can get a 
night’s lodging,” and she held out money 
to the boy. 

“ Mother, I can’t,” said the hoy ; “ I 
cannot, will not do it. I would not turn 
a dog out on such a night as this and 
the hoy resolutely took his seat at the 
window, and tried to look out into the 
dark night. 

“ Mary, mother,” said her husband, 
half reproachfully, “ this is not like you ; 
you will feel sorry for this.” 

Her cheek flushed : “ I am not afraid,” 
was her reply ; and, taking up the money, 
she walked to the door. 

“ Here,” she said, “ take this, and go 
around — ” she thought she saw the child 
standing before her ; she placed the money 
in his hand, as she supposed — it fell to 


THE C1IRIST-CHILD. 


23 


the ground. A heavy sigh met her ear, 
and these words breathed forth : 44 He 
came unto his own, and his own received 
him not.” She looked out, startled and 
bewildered, all around ; the child was 
gone. There was no one there, nothing 
but the dark night, the sharp wind, the 
pelting rain. She shut the door and 
returned. 

“You have acted hastily, Mary,” said 
her husband. 

“ Mother,” said the little child who 
was looking at the pictures, “who was it 
that said, 4 He had not where to lay his 
head V ” 

“ Mother,” cried out the boy from the 
window, starting up suddenly, 44 1 saw 
him pass, that beautiful child ! and he 
smiled at me, and held out his hands, 


24 


THE CHRIST-CHILD. 


and, O mother !” and liis voice sank 
to a whisper, u there were marks in 
them.” 

Yes, he had passed swiftly — that little 
child— swiftly through the dark street, 
that dreary, stormy night. Twilight had 
long since vanished, and darkness, which 
could almost he felt, had taken its place ; 
the broad street had yielded to a nar- 
rower and closer one, where the lamps, 
at long distances apart, served no pur- 
pose to guide the wanderer. He had left 
the homes of wealth and luxury ; he had 
reached the abodes of poverty ; but the 
storm spares not these. Fiercer and 
fiercer sweep the gusts through the nar- 
row street, and the snow, which has be- 
come rain, pours downwards, as if all the 
windows of Heaven were openedc 


THE CHRIST-CHILD. 


25 


Within one of these small, dark houses 
sat a woman, all alone; a pale, grave 
woman. The widow’s dress was rusty 
and worn, as if many days had passed 
since first it was put on ; the hare floor, 
the single candle, the scanty fire, told a 
tale of great poverty, hut with the pov- 
erty was strangely blended an air of 
refinement and gentleness. She was one 
whom God loved and was chastening. 
He was breaking the stony heart and 
turning out the dross. From wealth He 
had brought her to poverty, that in Him 
only she might find her true riches. He 
had taken from her her husband and her 
children, and her home and her friends, 
because she had so loved them as to 
have forgotten Him, and He would have 
her all his own. The work was almost 


3 


26 


THE CHRIST-CHILD. 


done, and the stony heart had become a 
heart of flesh. 

That Christmas night, memories of the 
past thronged before her, but no bitter- 
ness came with them, — only the heart 
was lifted up in love, for the great salva- 
tion that day sent to all and to her — in 
love, that God had so loved her, as to 
pluck her, as it were, a brand from the 
burning ; to have saved her even by His 
sternest discipline. 

Hark ! does she not hear a cry ? With 
a half-uttered “ God help the homeless !” 
she rose, and, shading her candle, went 
to the door; she opened it and looked 
out, all around, then up into the pitiless 
sky, and was about returning, when her 
eye rested on the little child, who had 
just readied the door, faint and weary, 


t 


THE C HEIST-CHILD. 


27 


and almost exhausted with the bufferings 
of the storm. He fell forward upon the 
door-step. In an instant she had started 
forward ; with words of tender endear- 
ment, “ My child ! my poor child l” she 
• 

lifted him in her arms, and carried him 
into her humble dwelling. By the scant 
fire she dried the dripping clothes, the 
streaming hair ; she chafed the frozen 
limbs until life and warmth returned. 
Her scant morsel of food was brought 
out for him ; and then, folding him in 
her arms, she soothed him as a mother 
might her first-born. 

Has she fallen asleep ? and is she 
dreaming? Was there but now a storm, 
and the wind howling around, as she 
shivered over the dying embers, and a 
perishing child whom she had warmed 


28 


THE CHRIST-CIIILD. 


and comforted with lier last morsel ? W as 
it all true, or is it indeed a dream ? The 
little child has risen from her embrace, 
and a halo of light and glory surrounded 
him. He has stretched forth his hands 

i 

as if in blessing, and in each tender palm 
she sees the print of the nails. 

With a loud, adoring cry, “ My Lord 
and my God !” she threw herself upon 
the ground before him, and as he passed 
away from her sight, she heard, in words 
like the sweetest music, “ Blessed of my 
Father. For I was an hungered, and ye 
fed me ; I was thirsty, and ye gave me 
drink ; I was a stranger, and ye took me 
in. My peace I leave you.” 

Was it a dream? hut it is a dream 
which shall never leave her ; she has re- 
ceived the Christ-child, she has received 


TIIE CHRIST-CHILD. 


29 


the Lord Christ himself. Henceforth, 
through her long pilgrimage, there shall 
be no more suffering, nor sorrow, nor 
weariness, nor want. She has received 
the Saviour to her home and to her heart, 
henceforth and for ever ; the peace of 
God abidetli with her. 

She was still kneeling, still gazing up 
where the child had disappeared, when 
she was aroused by a knock at her door ; 
another, and the door opened, and some 
one, wrapped in a cloak, with a dark 
lantern, entered and then a cheerful, 
manly voice exclaimed, “ Come, Mrs. 
Gray, get ready ; my wife has sent me 
for you, and will take no excuse. See,” 
he continued, “she has sent cloak and 
overshoes — and there is a little lull in 
the storm, and she says you must come — 


30 


THE CHEIST-CHILD. 


slie cannot let yon stay here all alone and 
dismal, this Christmas evening. Though,” 
he continued, as the light fell upon her 
face, “ I cannot say yon look dismal ; your 
face is as radiant as though you had seen 
an angel. Any good news?” continued 
the clergyman, with an expression of won- 
dering admiration as he looked at her. 

“ Oh, yes,” she replied, “ oh, yes — 
something blessed, but very wonderful. 
I cannot tell it to you here.” 

“"Well, come then,” said the good 
clergyman, “ let us go.” And carefully 
wrapping the cloak around her, and 
throwing the light so as to aid her in 
walking, he continued, cheerfully, “ We 
have a merry party at home, but you 
will not mind the noise of children; I 
think you love them, do you not?” 


THE CHRIST-CIIILD. 


31 


“ I always liave loved them,” she re- 
plied ; “ hut I shall always, after this, 
love them more than ever.” 

Not quite understanding this, the cler- 
gyman made no reply, and they soon 
reached the parsonage — the pleasant, 
quiet parsonage. There was no luxury 
there, hut warm hearts made up the lack ; 
no wealth, hut abundant comfort and 
happiness ; and this night — this Christ- 
mas night, this happiest night of all the 
year — was the jubilee to wdiicli many a 
little heart looked eagerly forward : — the 
parsonage w T as a home to so many ! 

As the door opened, the joyous mur- 
mur of young voices was heard, and 
then there was a rush towards the 
clergyman. 

“ O papa,” exclaimed a bright-eyed 


32 


THE CHRIST-CHILD. 


little boy, “ come in — make liaste ; see 
what we’ve got. Please make haste, 
papa.” 

“ What is it, Willy?” said the clergy- 
man, who was assisting Mrs. Gray — 

> 

“ what is it yon are so eager about ? 
One would think you had caught St. 
Claus himself.” 

“ Better, papa,” said little Willy — • 
“ much better. We have a little orphan 
child, sir ; and when he came he was all 
cold and wet, and nearly perished ; and 
mamma says I may give him my bow 
and arrows, and my — ” 

“ O papa,” interrupted little Maurice, 
“he’s got such beautiful bine eyes, and 
such soft, shining hair ; and I’ve brought 
down my new red shoes for him; and 
baby will give him her wax doll ; and 


THE CHRIST-CHILD. 


33 


mamma didn’t say so, but I' tliink — I’m 
not sure, papa — but I think mamma will 
give him all the money in her purse, to 
carry him home, because she is so sorry 
for him, and because he says his home is 
in a far country ; and, papa — ” 

“ O Maurice, let me talk,” interrupted 
Willy, in his turn. “ Papa, mamma says 
I may give him my new clothes, to carry 
with him ; but she says she would rather 
not take his clothes off now they are 
dry, sir; because his are such strange 
clothes. Mamma says she never saw 
any like them. They have no seam in 
them, sir.” 

“Hush, Willy,” said the clergyman, a 
strange feeling of wonder creeping over 
him. “ Where is the child ? How did 
he come here?” 


34 


THE CHRIST-CHILD. 


“ He knocked at the door, papa ; and 
mamma opened it, and told him to come 
in. There he is, sir.” 

And he pointed to the group in the 
centre of the room. 

There, indeed, stood the little child ; 
but how changed in appearance ! — no 
longer pale and wan ; the face was now 
radiant with love and joy, as he looked 
around on the little children, each proffer- 
ing some service. Baby’s doll was in his 
arms, and she herself, the little, toddling, 
wee thing, leaned fondly against his knee. 
Willy’s bow and arrows were at his side, 
and Willy’s new clothes were lying near 
by ; and Maurice’s red shoes, and all the 
toys — the precious toys — of all the little 
ones around him were heaped at his feet ; 
each had parted with the most valued 



Christ— Child received and entertained 


Page 34 










THE CHRIST-CHILD. 


35 


treasure — each liad given freely his best 
gift to the poor stranger. At the table, 
close by, the mother prepared a feast of 
good things for the weary orphan — every 
now and then drawing near, as if a mes- 
meric influence were upon her, to gaze 
lovingly upon the little child. 

Mrs. Gray had been forgotten ; hut she 
was there, so full of fervent love and 
adoration, as she recognized the little 
stranger, that she needed no care : and 
the good clergyman was there, drawn 
towards the little child, with a craving, 
yearning love, for which he could not 
account. 

Little Charley, the bright-eyed boy, 
who w T oukl have taken him in, had come 
in all unnoticed, and now stood apart, 
gazing wistfully upon him ; and his heart 


36 


TIIE CHRIST-CHILD. 


burned within him with a love which 
never died out, when the beautiful child, 
looking fondly upon him, said, “ He did 
what he could.” 

Yes, all true, loving hearts were there ; 
all willing, all eager to do and to give to 
the poor stranger, — but, as yet, knowing 
him only as the poor stranger; all will- 
ing, all eager to do and to care for him, — • 
but, as yet, only because they were in- 
deed’ true disciples of that Master who 
spent Ilis life doing good. • And now 
that He had been fed, and warmed, and 
clothed, and comforted, and they were 
all hanging eagerly about Him, gazing 
with a wrapt admiration at the beauty 
which grew more and more radiant as 
they looked upon it; — drinking in the 
gracious words which fell from his lips, 


THE CHRIST-CHILD. 


37 


and wondering at them with a feeling 
which deepened into awe, when little 
Maurice, pointing to the marks impressed 
upon his hands, asked him what they 
were; and the answer, slowly and dis- 
tinctly, fell on every ear : — * 

“ Those with which I was wounded in 
the house of my friends.” 

And then He drew the little children 
close to Him, and laid His hands upon 
them, and blessed them ; and then spread- 
ing out His arms, as if blessing them all, 
He seemed, as they gazed upon Him, to 
become fainter and fainter to their sight, 
yet more and more beautiful — only, as 
the vision vanished, they could all plainly 
see the marks in the outspread palms, 
the crown of thorns, and the halo of 

glory around the head, — and, like a strain 

4 


38 


THE C HEIST-CHILD. 


of dying music, low, yet distinct and 
sweet, came to every ear and heart the 
blessed words : — 

“ Inasmuch as ye have done it unto 
one of the least of these My brethren, ye 
have done it unto Me.” 



LIVES OF THE BISHOPS. 

BT THE EET. JOHN N. NORTON, A. M., 

Rector of the Church of the Ascension , Frankfort , Kentucky. 

We have just received two more of these charming and 
model biographies. Bishop Dehon, of South Carolina, 
and Bishop Gadsden, of the same diocese, are the subjects 
of these two volumes. It is very high praise to say 
that Mr. Norton has elaborated these volumes with even 
more care than either of the preceding, and that the re- 
sult is a more finished and delightful composition. We 
have called this entire series, so far as it has gone, model 
biographies, and w r e hope that they will become such. 
They are just such graphic and faithful portraitures of 
distinguished men as, in all but a very few exceptional 
cases, should supersede the heavv octavos, sometimes of 
several volumes, that are customarily devoted to a single 
life. As this author has well said, “Such a multitude 
of good and useful men have lived and labored in the 
world, that we can not well afford the time to read long 
biographies of them all.” The peculiar merit of Mr. 
Norton in this series is, that he not only presents us with 
all the facts that are worthy of record in a very brief 
6pace, but so clothes those facts, in that marvellously 
brief narrative, with all their circumstances and associa- 
tions, as to give the most lively and interesting picture 
of the man, his work, and his times. 

The life of Bishop Gadsden contains a touching notice 
of the late Rev. John B. Gallagher, who was some time a 
presbyter in South Carolina. The people of Louisville 
will long remember wdtli affection and gratitude the man 
whose soundness in the faith, and exemplary life, and 
lovely character, so illustrated and advanced tht cause of 
virtue and religion in our city .--Louisville Journal. 

24 


THE BOY MISSIONARY. 


BY MES. JENNY MARSH PARKER. 


The Boy Missionary is one of the best things the 
Church Book Society has given us in a long while. The 
idea is, to show how a poor little boy — weak, sickly, and 
not able to study much — may have the spirit of a mis- 
sionary, and may, among his fellows, do the work of a 
missionary, too, even in boyhood ; while others, of more 
brilliant parts and more commanding social position, look 
forward to missionary life as something future and far 
distant, and find their days brought to an end before 
their work is even begun. The authoress, Jenny Marsh 
Parker, shows no small knowledge of boy nature, and 
the temptations incident to the life of boys in a country 
village. Davie Hall will make many missionaries, both 
for the Far West and for home . — Church Journal . 

25 


\ 




THE LIVES OF THE BISHOPS. 

BY THE REV. J. N. NORTON. 

PUBLISHED BY THE CHURCH BOOK SOCIETY. 

4 

TEN EEAUTIFUL VOLUMES 18mo., each illustrated with a Fine 
Steel Engraving. Bound in Half Morocco, Embossed, and sold 


together for.... $2 50 

Or in Fancy Muslin, for 3 00 


Or separately, as follows 


THE 

LIFE 

OF BISHOP WHITE, halfemb. 25 c. 

Fancy mns. 30 c. 

THE 

LIFE 

OF BISHOP GRISWOLD, 

a 

25 c. 

44 

“ 30 c. 

THE 

LIFE 

OF BISHOP CHASE, 

44 

25 c. 

44 

“ 30 c 

THE 

LIFE 

OF BISHOP SEABURY, 

44 

25 c. 

44 

“ 80 c. 

THE 

LIFE 

OF BISHOP HOBART, 

44 

25 c. 

44 

“ 30 c. 

THE 

LIFE 

OF BISHOP MOORE, ofVA. 

25 c. 

44 

“ 30 c. 

THE 

LIFE 

OF BISHOP DEHON, 

44 

25 c. 

44 

“ 30 c. 

THE 

LIFE 

OF BISHOP GADSDEN, 

44 

25 c. 

44 

“ 30 c. 

THE 

LIFE 

OF BISHOP HEBER, 

44 

25 c. 

44 

“ 30 c. 

THE 

LIFE 

OF BISHOP RAVENSCROFT, 

25 c. 

44 

“ 30 a 



IN PRESS, 




THE 

LIFE 

OF BISHOP WAINWRIGHT. 

By Rev. J. 

N. Norton 

THE 

LIFE 

OF BISHOP CLAGGETT. 


44 

44 

do. 

THE 

LIFE 

OF BISHOP CROES. 


44 

44 

do. 

THE 

LIFE 

OF BISHOP nENSHAW. 


44 

44 

da. 


31 


j 


THE “ A. L. 0. E.” LIBRARY, 


PUBLISHED BY THE CHURCH BOOK SOCIETY. 
* 

TEN BEAUTIFUL VOLUMES 18mo., bound in Fancy Muslin, with 

Fine Engravings, and sold together for $3 00 

Or separately , as follows : 

WINGS AND STINGS 25 cents. 

THE GIANT-KILLER 30 do. 

TIIE ROBY FAMILY. Sequel to the Giant-Killer 30 do. 

THE YOUNG PILGRIM 50 da 

WALTER BINNING 25 do. 

TIIE CLAREMONT TALES 85 da 

THE STORY OF A NEEDLE 25 da 

FLORA; or, SELF-DECEPTION 35 da 

THE TWO PATHS, &c.. 25 do. 

TRUE HEROISM 25 da 


32 


Itibts 0f tfet §is|.ags. 

BY THE REV. J. N. NORTON. 

18mO. EACH VOLUME EMBELLISHED WITH a STEEL FOFvTEAIT. 




NOTICES OF THE PRESS. 

The Church Book Society adds four more to the list of 
Lives of the Bishops of the Church of America, prepared by 
the Rev. John N. Norton, of Kentucky. They are those 
of Seabury, Moore of Virginia, Hobart, and Philander 
Chase. In all these Mr. Norton’s vigorous and racy style 
of writing is strongly marked. He has a cordial sympathy 
with the best points in each one of these noble Bishops, 
and brings it forward in the way most certain to win the 
love of the young and tender-hearted reader. He never 
compromises the true principles of the Church, and never 
gives them such undue or offensive prominence as would 
be likely to provoke opposition ; but, on the contrary, 
gathers about them the kindest associations with names 
honored for other reasons in the Church. There is no 
partyism soiling these pages. The divisions of party, which 
more or less obscured, in these Bishops, the beauty of their 
character, while the walls of their life were in building, 
have long since been brushed away by the hand of death. 
Standing at our present distance from the brethren who 
have gone before, we can see the beautiful unity in which 

8 


CRITICAL NOTICES. 


theii labors were really blended, much better, perhaps, 
than they themselves when on earth. It is in this ad- 
mirable spirit that Mr. Norton has worked. Whether, 
with Seabury, receiving the apostolate on that cold, misty 
November morning in an upper room at Aberdeen, and 
laying the apostolic foundation in Connecticut and at our 
General Convention ; or with Moore, in his marked con- 
version, and his powerful preaching, turning the hearts 
of hundreds to God, at St. Andrew’s and St. Stephen’s, 
and in the length and breadth of the Old Dominion, build- 
ing up once more into life what had well-nigh crumbled 
into the dust of death ; or with Hobart, fighting the con- 
troversial battles of the Church, and, like a wise master- 
builder, laying the foundations of the General Theological 
Seminary, the Church Book Society, and enlisting the* 
power of the periodical press, guiding the great parish of 
Trinity Church, and building up his vast diocese during 
his episcopate of nineteen years to more than five times its 
size when he was consecrated, leaving everywhere the in- 
delible stamp of his own noble character ; or with Philan- 
der Chase at the North and the South and the East and 
the far West — in Connecticut, New York, New Orleans, 
Ohio, Illinois, England, everywhere begging, preaching, 
building, and leaving monuments of his pioneer labors 
that shall last to all time, especially as the founder — who 
else can say the same ? — of two Church Colleges , both on a 
firm basis, and both going on from strength to strength ; 
with all these Mr. Norton is equally in love, equally at 
home, equally interesting to his readers. He has wisely 
preserved in his pages many of the piquant personal anec- 
dotes and pithy sayings, and many of the touches of 
humor, that warmed the converse of those noble Bishops, 
and which will endear them still more to the human 

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LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 



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